First published by The Times on 20 March 2020
While peering into the experience of a molested teenager can’t be described as enjoyable, it’s a credit to Kate Elizabeth Russell that her debut novel, My Dark Vanessa, is as gripping as it is skin-crawling.
Vanessa is an unhappy girl at an elite school, where she catches the eye of a teacher, Mr Strane. Praise for her accomplished poetry and impressive grasp of literature morphs into special attention from him and a crush from her; these curdle into something far queasier. Little by little, the 15-year-old falls in love with the 42-year-old man who will be her abuser.
It’s a grim and all too plausible tale told in two time frames — by Vanessa the infatuated schoolgirl and by Vanessa the 32-year-old. The latter is zombie-like, her academic potential dissolved to nothing, her life fogged with drinking, her encounters with men deeply dysfunctional. She’s still in contact with Strane and still believes that theirs was a love affair misjudged by society. He, meanwhile, is being investigated in connection with allegations from other girls and women, part of an avalanche of revelations in the new Me Too era.
While the style of the book, written largely from the point of view of a teenager, at times feels reminiscent of teen fiction, the subject matter is cleverly handled. Vanessa is the innocent party not simply in the sense that she is being manipulated by Strane, but in that she’s too young to understand the damage he is doing. Anyone who remembers adolescence will know the draw of feeling favoured by a teacher, particularly as Vanessa has no friends. But as adult witnesses, we know as this unfolds that her friendlessness is not incidental to what happens; it’s easier to prey on the isolated.
She swoons and we shudder when he casually flatters her that her hair is the colour of maple leaves; even more so when, for their first night together, he presents her with a pair of white pyjamas decorated with strawberries. She wants to be more grown-up for him and has stolen a black negligee from her mother; she doesn’t recognise that it’s her childishness that excites him.
When the older Vanessa reads about him in the paper, she still can’t quite grasp the connection between what’s alleged and what happened to her: “The article says Strane groomed the girls. Groomed. I say the word over and over, to try and understand what it means, but all I can think of is the lovely warm feeling I’d get when he stroked my hair.”
It’s a story reminiscent of last year’s Leaving Neverland documentary, in which Wade Robson and James Safechuck explained their lingering devotion to Michael Jackson even after he allegedly subjected them to sexual abuse. These perspectives from victims bring an important truth into focus, one that makes this novel valuable: that the damage is not simply in the act itself, but in the way it can for ever distort a person’s sense of what is north and what is south, what is right and what is wrong, and what they do or don’t deserve to suffer.
My Dark Vanessa by Kate Elizabeth Russell , 4th Estate , 384pp ; £12.99